


I'll Save Her

by himegimi



Category: Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M, Gen, I can't write action scenes but I did my best, Relationships aren't explicit just one-sided so far lol, camping is fun until it's not, it's about the pining, spoilers for arc 3, though I changed the ending a little bit, we pingpong from lighthearted to serious in this household it's just how I live my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himegimi/pseuds/himegimi
Summary: Frey and her chosen companions, Leon and Dylas, fight their way through Rune Prana to bring a dear friend back.
Relationships: Dylas/Frey (Rune Factory), Frey/Leon (Rune Factory)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Rune Factory Big Bang





	I'll Save Her

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Rune Factory Big Bang 2020 event!  
> The adorable art featured in my story is by the lovely invaderjj @ tumblr :3!
> 
> This is essentially just a retelling of some sections of arc 3, based on how I played it. The the final fight however, is a bit different?  
> I'm not really a writer, but you don't get better at things by not doing them, so here I am! It was fun to stretch my long-unused writing muscles a bit.  
> I hope Rune Factory 4 continues getting a lot of love for years to come!

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Her time here felt like an extremely bad dream. 

Monster after monster, ones she’d already fought - back and with a vengeance, though it should be impossible. 

_Then again,_ she thinks spitefully, with a duck and swing, _we’re here to accomplish the impossible ourselves._

A head-pounding roar resonates throughout the clearing, and Frey has to squint her eyes to keep her focus on her current opponent. She glances at her companions, who both have more sensitive ears than she, and takes the opportunity to direct the Chimera’s attention to herself while they recover. She channels earth from where she stands and hurls it at the monster, and does not wait for any of the stones to hit before advancing. With a shout and a lunge, she slams her shield into one of its forelegs, throwing it off balance with a loud crack. That certainly gets its attention, and it whirls in her direction, snarling. The saliva that drips from its enormous fangs is no less frightening the second time around, and she swallows hard. 

She had fought long and hard against this creature once before, nearly losing her life in the process. It moved fast, hit hard, and its ranged attacks were nothing to sneeze at. It took her so many nights - fighting the beast, realizing she was outmatched, and retreating. She improved her weapons and skills; moving faster, hitting harder, practicing her own magic. Eventually she was able to fell it, but only after how many close encounters?

Though the dust she had thrown up is clearing behind the creature, she can make out a slight movement in her peripheral vision, and she points the tip of her sword at the chimera, keeping its yellow eyes on the glare reflecting off her blade. 

The difference now is, back then in the desolate water ruins, she was alone.

Frey shouts again, charging, and the creature in front of her doesn’t realize this time it’s a signal, not a distraction. Flames shoot towards them from Leon’s direction; with the chimera’s massive body taking the brunt of the fire, Frey is able to spin into a safe spot near Dylas, and propels wind blades from her own hands at the same instant Dylas throws lightning at it. It _screams_ ; their spells work in tandem and propel one another on even faster, slicing into its hide harder than they would have if cast individually. 

“Thanks for buying us some time,” Leon grits through his teeth. 

“A princess must always protect her people,” Frey calls with a tired laugh, and dances to the forefront of their formation once more as their commander. Even fighting for their lives, fighting for their friend’s life, Frey remains good-natured and optimistic. If not her, then who else? 

Finding that the beast’s water attacks are easier to avoid than its huge claws and teeth, the three of them throw out spells and combinations of spells while keeping their distance. Fire and lightning magic to create supercharged thunderbolts, or earth and wind magic that not only bludgeons and bruises but cuts and stings as well. Spells of dark and then light magic to daze and blind it and its snake-headed tail. They nearly exhaust their magic, Frey and Dylas keeping reserves in case healing magic was necessary.

The chimera decides two can play at that game, and its water magic comes barreling at each of them once again; but they are used to this attack, and dodge adequately. Leon simply incinerates what comes at him, irritated that his favorite magic, raw fire magic, is essentially useless against a water-aspected creature. 

“Watch your magic usage!” Frey commands, but realizes she should have had other concerns when steam clouds around the area surrounding him, and he is lost in it. 

“You may be the _acting_ princess, but-”

The chimera charges at him, and Frey briefly wonders if it’s smart enough to realize the advantage of the steam, or if it realized Leon is the only one who can’t use healing magic. Surrounded by the steam, Leon’s visibility is poor - his ears and instincts kick in, but only fast enough for him to know something is coming at him. Though he braces himself, it hits him with enough force to send him sprawling to the dirt, and Dylas closes in _fast_ , kicking out another one of the creature’s legs. It stumbles to the ground, giving both he and Leon enough time to put some distance between the chimera and themselves. It thrashes violently, the snake head on its tail hissing and spitting water and venom. Its wings flap wildly, the sharp talons threatening those who would come close to take advantage of its fall. Frey rejoins Leon to assess his injuries, and gives him a moderate punch to the shoulder before casting a cure on him. 

“You really should practice with closer range weapons,” Dylas states tiredly to Leon. 

“No thanks, I’ll leave that to brutes like you,” Leon laughs. He spins his spear, and another spell, the last one he can conjure, is quick on his lips. Earth materializes from the ground, shaping itself into spikes that remind Frey of stalagmites, and Leon throws them at the struggling creature. Its wings take most of the damage and fall limp, the thin membrane and bones unable to hold up against the force of the pointed rocks. 

Leon holds up his hands in a surrendering gesture, and Frey and Dylas both know he’s out of magic. His spear skills are nothing to sneeze at either, but Leon Bastet does not like to get dirty unless absolutely necessary.

_Which would explain why that mistake with the steam just now put him in such a foul mood..._

“Leon, the tail. Dylas, with me at the head,” Frey orders.

With two of its legs heavily wounded and its wings out of commission, the three of them would concentrate on the chimera’s tail and head. Crouched as if to pounce, the creature follows her with its gaze as she makes a wide circle around it, the snake fixating on Leon and Dylas where they stand still, tense. Frey could feel the relief at how slowly it seemed to move now, glowering at her from its low spot on the ground.

She too crouches once she’s facing the front of the beast, widening her stance and bracing herself for impact, her shield in front of her. Frey starts to slap the flat side of her sword against her shield repetitively, the clang of metal ringing in her ears and vibrating though her hands. It irritates the monster, as it always does, and the chimera advances towards her.

_Run_ , she thinks, and though it’s not a spoken command, Dylas races toward her, Leon behind him, his spear slashing at the snake’s head to keep it at bay. 

She can almost smell the wind magic on him as he sprints past the chimera and at her instead; when he spins and kicks himself off the shield she’s angled, Frey whispers one last time and the last of her own wind magic explodes between them - sending him flying back at the chimera fast enough to land clean kick between its eyes, the crack of its skull resonating throughout the clearing. It screeches and falls to the ground again, and Frey rushes forward, taking the opportunity to take aim at its head.

“I’m sorry for this,” she whispers. 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

A sigh here, a groan there. A frown and furrowed eyebrow. Frey, peering worriedly into the dark path ahead, turns around to her companions. 

“Do you think we can keep going?” she asks, her breath materializing into the cold winter air as she speaks. “I think we’re getting close.” Her voice, sounding much more desperate than she’d intended, echoes back from the stone walls of the deep caves, and she suddenly feels very small and tired. She’d said that line only a million times at this point - just how deep did Rune Prana go?

Dylas grunts vaguely, and Leon only yawns, reminding her of the cats back in Selphia who lounge about in the sun during the summers. She suddenly misses summer and its warmth, both the physical and emotional. Splashing around on beach day with her friends, and Venti complaining constantly about the heat. How long ago was that? She knows it’d hurt more to count the years, so Frey stops her thoughts there. 

“I guess that’s a no?” she finalizes, and both Leon and Dylas each take a seat on the cavern floor, plopping down as if they were puppets whose strings had been cut. 

“Sorry, girly. Do you... have any idea how long we’ve been in here?” Leon asks, stretching and switching into a lounging position. “It feels like it’s been forever, and if anyone knows what that feels like, it’s probably me, don’t you think?” He adds with a wry smile. “Dylas and I still can’t keep up with you in terms of pure stamina either, probably from all that time we spent sleeping.”

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry,” she concedes, recalling the easy days Leon currently lives. The man takes at least a couple hours in the bath every day. Dylas has a busy shift at the restaurant now and then, but cleaning up after the customers who frequent Porcoline’s is nothing like cleaning up the six monster barns behind the castle. Both Dylas and Leon _do_ work too, she always points out, but they only insist Frey is on another level. 

She dutifully rises at six every morning, tends the fields and her monsters, manages to say hello to everyone, and often still has the time and energy to go exploring. If needed, she stays up late, being perfectly fine with six hours or less of sleep, something Leon, lover of lazing, can’t even fathom attempting. Volkanon and Arthur constantly praise how productive her days tend to be - she can’t admit that she just keeps busy to keep her mind off of less-than-optimistic things. 

Frey slides her bag from her shoulders and kneels to unpack it, instantly feeling the relief in her back. Her companions do the same, and before long they’ve set out their needed camping gear. Sleeping bags, preserved food, and fire-starting supplies litter the ground. 

“What do you both feel like eating today?” Dylas asks, rolling his sleeves up once the fire’s started. 

“Something sweet!”

“Something exciting~”

Frey and Leon both chime in at the same time, and Dylas makes a face, wondering why he’d even bothered asking. Unfortunately, those are both adjectives _he_ does not like applied to his food, but he sighs and starts on something anyway. Leon cleans and sharpens their weapons while Frey starts on setting up their tent. Both her companions notice that she’s moving more slowly than usual with it, and share a look in concern.

“I thought we agreed we didn’t need that?” Dylas asks, crouching near the fire. “Doesn’t it just slow us down if we need to get up and out quickly?”

“We do during the winter!” Frey huffs, either from exasperation or exhaustion or both. Her breath puffing white in the air reminds both Leon and Dylas of a little dragon, which in turn reminds them of a certain larger dragon, and they feel both endeared and a little sad, until Frey’s voice brings them back to themselves. “Our body heat is better conserved in an enclosed space - it makes it harder to freeze to death.” 

“Dylas just wants to sleep closer together than we already do,” Leon adds with a wink. “I can’t say it’s a bad idea, especially since our little earthmate sleeps in the middle. Who knew our town’s own broody waiter would be into cuddling.” 

“Oh, shut up. Don’t forget who’s making your dinner, you stupid fox.” 

“Will you poison it if I do? Now _that’s_ the kind of excitement I live for. Make sure you give me enough that the princess will have to suck it out of me late-”

“We sleep in shifts anyway!” Frey interjects, and their conversation ends with a glare and a smirk. She’s right. Nobody really sleeps _that_ close to anybody, since a third person is always up and keeps the fire going, which leaves ample space in the tent.

With a noisy sigh, Frey takes her seat near the crackling fire, leaning towards its warmth. Her nose and cheeks are red from the cold, and her friends find it both adorable and concerning.

“That was a big sigh there, little miss,” Leon remarks, scooting towards her and throwing one of their blankets over her shoulders. She wraps it around herself like a cloak. “If you didn’t want tent duty, you could have said something, you know? Dylas here would have been happy to take over for you.”

Dylas gives Leon a pointed look, but says nothing. Leon speaks the truth - the locking mechanisms that make up their tent had not yet been invented in Leon’s time, and so Leon had more trouble with setting up the tent than Frey or Dylas ever did. Frey could quickly handle assembling and disassembling things due to her familiarity with crafting small items, and so Dylas was assigned to meal duty most of the time, while Leon got all the other odd jobs. 

“No no, I’m just a little sore! I didn’t realize it until we sat down. My arms and legs and back are all thanking me now.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you when we try that crazy move, Princess? I know having Dylas run at you with that serious look on his face is _really_ funny,” Leon smirks, watching Dylas’s tail swish in irritation, “But having to propel a man of his stature off of your shield must be pretty hard on your body, isn’t it?”

“No way!” Frey insists, flexing one of her arms. “I’m strong enough!” 

_How cute_. 

She is rather muscular for her stature, for after all the fieldwork, fighting, errand-running, and monster-taming, how could she not be?

“Also,” she adds sheepishly, “I can mitigate most of the impact with magic, and concentrate heal in the small spots if it does hurt. So I do cheat a liiiittle. But it took a lot of practice to get the spell order, cast speed, and power just right.”

“Geez, sorry I’m so heavy,” Dylas grumbles. Leon levels his eyes at him.

“So Dylas, after all this, are you actually ‘like super ripped’ under all those stuffy clothes now?” 

“What- that’s- you _stupid_ -”

“Don’t you think so too, Princess?” 

“DON’T BRING HER INTO TH-”

“Hmm, well, it’s no secret Dylas really does hit the hardest, huh? Isn’t that why we channel all our speed boosting magic into him? It’s super cool, honestly!”

“Aaand our lady agrees!” Leon says with a flourish, his voice booming, as if he were announcing the winner of one of their town’s little contests.

“You guys are stupid!” Dylas pouts. He would leave them, but he’s too busy stirring their dinner, so he can only sit there, red-faced, from either the steam billowing from the pot, or the conversation.

“Did you learn that slang from Kiel, Leon?”

“So you noticed? The lingo from this time period is quite something. Translating literature for Arthur has taught me a lot about how the people in this era talk. Sometimes he’ll send something back to me and tell me, ‘people don’t use this word anymore,’ which is really quite a shame. Not only do languages die, but even specific words too?”

Venti’s words echo in their minds again.

_Everything dies eventually._

Nobody says it aloud, but all of them think it, and when all of them think it, there’s an unspoken sadness hanging over them. One that never truly left, only coming back in ebbs in levels of bad and worse.

The silence is broken by Frey stretching herself out in front of the fire, face twisted as she attempts to rub the soreness out of her shoulders.

“My hands may not be as dexterous as yours, but I can give you a massage, if you’d like?” Leon smiles, winking when he catches Dylas glaring at him. 

Frey shakes her head, laughing into her blanket. “I think just having a nice hot bath when we all get back will do the trick, but thank you.”

Dylas visibly relaxes, and hands each of them a bowl, steaming with stew. It’s a simple dinner, but can be easily customized for each person’s tastes. Leon adds stronger spices to his share, Frey gets a majority of the sweet potatoes in hers, and Dylas takes most of the carrots. It’s a familiar and comforting meal for their little party, what with how many times they’ve eaten it together after a long day adventuring.

While Dylas cleans the pot and cooking utensils and Leon cleans their dinnerware, Frey huddles near the fire, munching on a chocolate cookie she snuck along with her. Why she feels the need to sneak sweets on their journeys was a mystery to the two of them, considering they didn’t have the taste for sugar. 

“Say, Leon,” Dylas starts, glancing at the ceiling of the cavern they’ve taken shelter in. “Do you have any idea if we’re near the end of this thing?” 

“Mmm, I don’t, actually,” Leon says, with a frankness that surprises Dylas. “While it’s true this is the tower I was sealed in, I was asleep at the very top, not here at the bottom.”

“Did you know the bottom section held this many rooms?”

“Can’t say I’m one-hundred-percent surprised. I expected a lot, but maybe not _this_ many. This section of the tower was unexplored in my era as well.”

All three of them quiet once more, pondering an unspoken question.

_What exactly is waiting for us at the end of this?_

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

  
  


When Leon and Dylas finish cleaning up after their dinner, they find Frey curled up in her blanket, asleep in front of the campfire. 

“Despite her wanting to be the one to keep going, she falls asleep first. What a funny girl,” Leon chuckles. 

“Well, she does wake up the earliest,” Dylas crouches down to slowly pull her ribbons out of her hair, her pigtails coming loose. When Leon gives him a sly look, he stands again and puts Frey’s hair ribbons away in her bag.

“Don’t look at me like that. Sometimes I have to put _my_ hair up for work, and I can’t tell you what a headache I have by the end of my shift. Can’t imagine _sleeping_ with that kind of pressure on your head all night,” Dylas grumbles, and Leon just shrugs. 

“You’re surprisingly considerate.” 

“I could say the same about you.” 

They both give each other a wry smile, knowing there’s an unspoken common denominator in this equation, who happens to be fast asleep in between them. 

“Should we uh, wake her?”

“Awh, isn’t her sleeping face kinda cute?” Leon whispers, squatting down to watch the firelight dance on her eyelids.

Dylas, still standing, but seemingly watching the same thing as he, glares at him, but doesn’t comment.

“Since you’re the workhorse around here, why don’t you pick her up and move her to the tent?” 

The crease between Dylas’s eyebrows deepens, and he shakes his head frantically, his face reddening.

“No way.” 

“I think if she were awake, she’d be offended by your refusal. Guess I’ll have to do it, I wanted to give her a little goodnight kiss anyway-”

“Like _hell_ you will.”

“So _you_ don’t want to do it, and you don’t want _me_ to do it,” Leon crosses his arms. “Are you telling me you’d leave our poor little princess out in the cold all night?”

“Of course not!”

“You think she’s too heavy, is that it?”

“I never said that-”

“Though we’ve all been through so much together, even though it strains her little arms to hoist you off of her shield, you still think so little of her you’d leave her on the cold. Hard. Ground!”

“ _That’s the furthest thing from how I feel!_ ”

Leon’s eyebrows shoot up, amused, and Dylas clenches his jaw before he accidentally says anything else. Each of their tails swish around behind them, one in amusement, the other in irritation. While it would have been obvious to anyone else that Leon was simply being theatrical, Dylas, in his flustered state, had taken the bait. 

“Since kissing sleeping beauty is off-limits, shall I move the fire a bit?” Leon asks airily.

“Guess I’ll get the tent,” Dylas mumbles in reply. 

Between the two of them, they manage to shift their campsite just so, so neither of them have to wake Frey up nor move her themselves. If she was too tired to go to the tent to sleep, they would simply bring it to her instead. The campfire had to be moved out slightly so there wouldn’t be any risk of setting their sleeping quarters on fire, but Leon’s affinity with magic got it started again in no time. 

“She’s… really tired,” Dylas murmurs. He was surprised their earlier conversation hadn’t woken her up. 

“And yet stays so motivated,” Leon quips.

A silence falls over them once again. Frey’s motivations are the same as theirs, as each of their fellow guardians. But her insistence in continuing to handle the princess duties assigned to her, as well as going out of her way to continue running errands for the townspeople, kept her extremely busy, on top of managing the castle fields and monster barns. It seemed so much for one girl to handle, earthmate or not. 

“Clorica confided in me that Princess is hoping to bring Ventuswill back by Christmas,” Leon says solemnly. 

“That’s... the day after tomorrow,” Dylas frowns. 

No wonder she was so insistent about continuing on, despite how obviously tired she was. 

“How did Clorica find out?”

“It’s the conclusion all of the butlers came to when observing how Frey keeps her calendar.”

Dylas strains his memory. While he’s been in her room several times when prepping for a long adventuring excursions, he’s never paid too much attention to her calendar. He’s not really a guy good at writing things down, or paying attention to notes.

“Frey likes Christmas, but not enough to heavily mark it on her calendar,” Leon explains. “She will draw a cute little doodle for Christmas Day, which Vishnal has confirmed from her previous calendars. But after Venti… disappeared, she stopped drawing anything on her calendars for a while. Which is why they noticed when this year’s Christmas had some pretty intense circling around it, and some exclamation points.” 

“Are you sure it’s not just like… a party? Or a new festival?”

“Thing is, the castle staff took note of when she started marking her calendar again. I’m sure you can guess when they noticed it.”

Dylas doesn’t have to think too hard about that one. 

“After she got the information about how to get in here.”

Leon nods, sighing. He may be a carefree old soul who loves to tease, but Dylas has found out he can be surprisingly serious when it comes to some subjects. This is not the first time they’ve spoken like this.

“Do you think we can do it?”

“I don’t quite think… it’s a matter of _can_ ,” Leon ponders, obviously choosing his words carefully. “I think it’s more a matter of _should_. You and I are strong enough in our own rights, but Frey is the key that ties this all together. She’s the only one that can actually bring Ventuswill back...”

Both of them can hear there’s an unspoken ‘but’ hanging in the air, and Dylas finishes the thought for him.

“But you’re worried about what it might cost.”

“Aren’t _you_?”

“Of course I am!” Dylas hisses quietly. “When she tried that spell again before…” He rubs his forehead and temple, as if he has a headache.

_It scared me._

“You like her, don’t you, grumpy boy?” 

“Shut _up!_ ”

“You’re terribly easy to read, you know that?”

Leon laughs when Dylas stands with his fists clenched, as if he’s ready to deck him.

“Oh _relax_. You think you’re the only one?”

Dylas looks surprised and then angry, but Leon has to wonder if he really is either of those things. He’s come to the conclusion that whenever Dylas feels confused, he fills in his fears of the unknown with anger - he’s not truly angry.

Frey’s genuine interest in everyone in town’s wellbeing has made her well-loved among them all, and those of them who have become smitten with her are not quite few. Leon’s vague choice of words leaves the question rather open ended at who else he might be implying. Leon might be referring to himself, or he might not be. 

Despite the two of them being as different as they were, there were a lot of thoughts and feelings they shared. A lot of words could be left unspoken and still understood. They had shared enough adventures with both each other and Frey. 

Leon knows deep down, their reasons were likely the same, and decides to leave it as a don’t-ask-don’t-tell situation. While he is aware of his feelings, he doesn’t know how self-aware Dylas might be. He eyes Dylas thoughtfully, wondering if this man knows the depth of his own feelings. Or, if he was simply infatuated with the first woman to go out of her way for him. 

“I just want to keep her safe and get the hell outta here.” 

Though Leon had just chided him a moment ago for being easy to read, the priest could not come to a solid conclusion either way. 

“Even if that’s not what she wants?”

A noncommittal grunt is Dylas’s only reply, and he turns back to the tent for his block of sleep, his tail swishing back-and-forth irritably. Leon starts his turn to keep watch, his eyes squinting at the dying fire in front of him. 

Even in this era, it seemed there would always be a choice between what she wanted, and what would keep her safe.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Dylas and Leon wake up to Frey already up and humming, unsurprisingly. Their sensitive ears, remnants of their times as guardian beasts, make them light sleepers, but they know Frey wouldn’t let herself be noisy if it wasn’t time to get up soon anyway. Despite how dense she can be regarding some matters, she’s still very considerate of everyone. That’s part of why the entire town loves her so much, present company not excluded... 

Their sensitive noses also pick up the scent of something _irresistible_ , and even though it’s freezing, it doesn’t take long for them to crawl from their warm sleeping blankets, out to their places Frey has set out the fire. 

“Good morning, you two!” she smiles, as only morning people can do at this hour. She’s hovering over a pot, a ladle in one hand and a fan in the other, presumably for fanning the fire underneath it. 

Frey always takes the hardest night shift, the last one, simply because it’s only a couple hours before she gets up normally anyway - making it easy for her, she insists. Leon, who’d rather have a single block of sleep, takes the first shift, sleeping after the others. Dylas takes the mid-shift, half-sleeping outside the tent; as the one with the best hearing, he can still hear anything concerning, even half-asleep.

“Is that what I think it is?” Dylas asks, eyeing the pot hopefully. 

“If it is, that is decidedly _not_ what I dragged myself out of bed for,” Leon whines, well-acquainted with the main ingredient of Dylas’s favorite food by now.

“You can go back to sleep then, and we’ll eat without you.”

“Loverboy, if you wanted some alone time with the Earthmate, you could have just asked nicely,” Leon teases, holding his hands up defensively when Dylas glares at him.

Frey points her paper fan at them both threateningly. “Do you boys want to eat, or not?” 

It’s not threatening at all, but rather cute. She only calls them boys when she thinks they’re acting like insufferable buffoons. Dylas mutters an apology and Leon nods, laughing to himself. Frey spoons some porridge into two bowls for herself and Dylas, then pulls a skewer with a fish on it from her spot near the fire and offers it to Leon. Both of their tails swish around in excited satisfaction, which is her favorite part of cooking their favorite foods, even though she would _never_ admit that to them. Dylas would elect to hide his tail for the rest of his life, and Leon would tease her about it for the rest of hers.

“So my nose _didn’t_ lie to me!” Leon exclaims. 

“Neither of yours did,” Frey laughs. “We’ve been here in Prana for a couple of days by now, I figured it was time to pull out your favorites as a little treat. I still think it’s hilarious you two have the same but nearly opposite tastes in food.”

Dylas, who loves dairy and generally mild foods. Leon, who thinks the weirder the taste, the better. Both love fish and both have a distaste for sweets, which happen to be Frey’s favorite. 

_What a weird bunch we make_ , she thinks, adding some chocolate into her porridge. Both men make faces at her addition, but say nothing, too busy filling their mouths with their own breakfasts.

“I don’t know if the tasteless fish Dylas likes can be counted as _food_ …” Leon muses.

“Compared to the poisonous fish _you’re_ currently eating,” Dylas retorts. 

“I’m simply eating it as it is.”

“The fact that you consider it food at all is the problem!”

“Nancy has expressed concern over it being your favorite food, huh?” Frey chimes in.

“I like the tingle.”

Dylas rolls his eyes, mouthing ‘weirdo’. 

Frey wishes there was some kind of pond around. The chasm that Siren had occupied didn’t count, the water dark and devoid of life. Fishing might put all of them in better spirits… her mind reels back to their exploration of Idra cave and its surrounding area. The two of them had taken turns with her fishing rod, and being as well-crafted as it was, caught a plethora of fish for dinner. So much, they had to cut their expedition short and return to town to offload it all. 

_Sashimi? Not bad. But come back with pancakes next time!_

The echo of a faraway voice makes her shake her head. No, time is of the essence right now. They had only until… until… 

_Tomorrow? That can’t be..._

The flow of time was hard to keep track of in Rune Prana, what with its interior capable of being different seasons and times all at once. But Frey kept a small pocket watch on herself, a gift from Arthur. She traces her fingers over the raised detailing on its cover, reminiscent of the Noradic architecture style also adorning Arthur’s clothes and personal items. The country she was representing while staying in Selphia; while the memory of her real homeland is still a mystery to her, the curling fleur de lis design on the watch gives her a comforting feeling. The long thin needle inside however, makes her skin itch with anxiety. It seems to go so fast, racing around the clock face faster than she can breathe.

_So many people are counting on us._

She turns over the concept of failure in her head, carefully, as if it were a hot stone. Frey has never felt too forlorn about her lost memories, but she wishes she knew how to deal with the feelings churning inside her. With memories of her past life gone, she’s unsure if she’s gone through something like this before. If she had gone through loss, through grief already - would it make the here and now easier at all? 

“Excuse me, _princess_.” 

Leon is looking theatrically offended at her, and the click of her watch closing echoes in the cave abruptly. He seems to only use that nickname for her when teasing her, so her voice is laced with concern when she responds.

“Yeees?”

“Do you want me to feed you?”

“H...huh?”

“If you’re having trouble getting the spoon from the bowl to your mouth, I can feed you.”

Leon points at her bowl, still nearly full of sweet porridge. 

“Oh, no, no need!” 

She takes a big bite, one after another, and Leon smiles at her smugly. When her bowl is nearly empty, Dylas takes it from her wordlessly and ladles out some more, then hands it back to her. 

“You guys are acting weirder than usual,” she laughs, a little nervously.

“Eat up,” he replies matter-of-factly.

Frey isn’t sure how to respond to that, so she settles for downing the food in her bowl once more. There’s the feeling of unspoken words hanging in the air, but it's difficult to pull them down into something more tangible.

“Thank you,” she settles. It doesn’t nearly feel like enough, she has so much more she’d like to say to them both, but Frey has always been better with doing, not saying. “For putting away my ribbons, too.” 

Dylas looks surprised. “Oh, how did you...”

Frey grins, proud of herself, and thinks in a way that’s very reminiscent of an eccentric detective back home, with one hand under her chin. 

“Dylas can be a bit rough around the edges, but is considerate, and not wanting to go through my backpack, would probably just shove them in wherever,” she explains. “If it was Leon who took my ribbons out, I think he’d tie them into a difficult knot, then have some fun watching me try to undo them in the morning, but he’d help me if I couldn’t figure it out.” 

Leon lets out a loud laugh at that, while Dylas looks red and irritated again. 

“Damn, called out. You think you know us so well, huh?”

“I make it my business to know _everyone_ well, actually. It comes with the job. That’s why I knew I should ask you two to come in here with me.”

“Oh? You mean you have other reasons besides wanting a pretty guy on each arm?” 

“ _Leon!_ ” Frey laughs, throwing a cloth napkin at him.

“It’s okay, I’m only a little offended,” he responds.

Frey can’t help but noticing Dylas’s tail swishing around slowly, not in irritation, but in… curiosity? But nice as she is, doesn’t say anything about it. Besides, his face looks more confused at the prospect of being called ‘pretty.’ 

Leon however, decides he’s fair game.

“You should still tell us. Horsie-boy here really wants to know. It’s all over his body language.”

“ _SHUT UP,_ ” Dylas snaps.

“Hmm… what should I say,” Frey ponders.

“The truth?” 

“How about… I let you guess!”

Both give her a look, but let her continue regardless. She did enjoy guessing games - she was always prone to guessing what kind of fish they were reeling in based on the size of its shadow. Who were they to deprive her of what little fun could be had in this cold and hostile dungeon?

“Option number one! Being guardians, I suppose it means you have more in common with me than normal humans do. Even as full humans, you had a stronger affinity with the runes than normal people, but now, since you were fused with them for so long, I would wager that your affinity is stronger. Because of that, you can understand the environment and use magic better.”

“That is true,” Leon says thoughtfully.

“Option number two! Since you were monsters, you have abilities retained from your monster forms that are very helpful in battle. Dylas’s rare lightning magic, Leon’s agility and eyesight, and both of your enhanced senses of smell, hearing, and instinct are very helpful in fights, don’t you think?”

“Very much so,” Dylas nods. 

“Option number three! The one that is definitely not true!”

“Oh, this should be good.”

Frey takes a deep breath, and already giggling to herself, has to try and calm herself to even get her explanation out. 

“Since you both… haha, were certain types of monsters…You have features that nobody else in town has…” She manages, laughing in-between phrases.

“ _That’s_ why?” Leon smirks, already catching her train of thought. 

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” Dylas frowns, holding his head in his hands.

“Features that are very cute to a girl like me, who tames animals as a hobby… ”

“I know what you’re about to say, so spit it out for Dylas here. Just rip it off, like those medicine patches Jones has.”

“The fluffy ears and tails are very comforting,” she finishes, mimicking the brushing motion she uses on her woolies back home.

“I’m leaving!” Dylas states, standing abruptly. 

“No you’re not, sit back down,” Leon chides.

“And I said that one was definitely not true!” Frey insists.

“You’re a terrible liar!”

“Alright alright,” Leon holds up his hands, “Let’s calm down and clean up. It’s probably time to get going anyway.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

  
  


When Frey comes face to face with Ethelberd once more, she’s filled with a nearly uncontrollable rage. The only thing that keeps her from rushing him and thrusting her sword through his wrinkled throat is the fact that he says nothing, and makes no move.

And, Leon and Dylas each have a hand on her shoulders. 

“Wait,” Dylas’s voice comes softly.

“It’s likely just a shade,” Leon observes, pointing. “Look.”

She does, pushing her anger to a simmer inside herself. While the creature in front of them looks like the empire’s former ruler, it does not act like him. The one she was unfortunately acquainted with was vain and belligerent - this one is quiet, staring straight ahead. Its skin is purple and grey, and eyes lifeless. Frey can feel a sinister aura emanating from it regardless, and draws her weapon. 

“That stunt he tried probably messed up his return to the afterlife,” Leon adds. “And now his soul, or part of it, is trapped here.” 

“I don’t think any part of his soul was friendly, so we’re likely in for a fight,” Frey hisses.

When she blinks, Ethelberd is in front of her, an arm’s distance away, eyes aglow. 

“Scatter!” she screams, and their reflexes are just fast enough to avoid the magic that surges from his body in fast spikes, grazing their skin and ripping through some of their clothing. It’s dark magic, and while Frey isn’t all surprised, she curses it regardless, bringing all her light spells to the forefront of her memory. The shade teleports to a far corner of the room, and she casts a light spell to encircle her body in the same moment a dark portal opens up at her feet. She knows this spell, and spins out of it before it can pull her under. 

“Avoid the portals on the floor!”

“ _Avoid_ avoid? How lethal are we talkin’ here?” Dylas calls.

“You know quicksand? Like that but worse,” Leon replies. 

Ethelberd is suddenly in a different corner once again, and Frey positions herself in front of her party, shield and her spinning light magic protecting them from the dark spears that fly at them. 

“How can you get worse than drowning in sand and mud?” Dylas asks, exasperated.

“You know, I always wondered that too.”

“The bastard who invented the spell must have been a real piece of work,” Leon shrugs, stepping out and throwing fire at the shade, but when the flames go out, it’s gone again. 

When it appears across the room and he throws spears of water at it this time, they splash against the wall. It’s fast. 

“Damn, _really_?” 

Elemental magic was too slow. For something that could be anywhere else in the blink of an eye, it was proving difficult to hit with ranged attacks - attacks that need a second or two to reach their destinations. A second or two too long.

“Sorry, Leon,” Frey sighs. “The most effective magic here will be light, and lightning. You’ll be on boost duty.” 

Light, as a natural counterpart to dark, and lightning, which moved the fastest of all the elemental magics - nearly instant. Two spell types that Frey and Dylas each excelled in, but not Leon. His focus shifts to wind magic, his hair and tail swirling around him as he gathers it.

“Melee attacks are unlikely to land either,” she directs at Dylas, who prefers brute force over casting spells. His eyebrows furrow, and she can see his hair standing on edge as he concentrates on channeling lightning instead. 

Ethelberd appears in the middle of the room once more, and they spread out, giving him a wide berth before the dark energy forms itself into spears again, flying at them not unlike the missiles used by the empire’s machinery.

“His personality’s all gone, but his malice is sure as hell still intact,” Leon comments, gritting his teeth. 

“Just keep your distance. That dark magic can impale you at close range, but it’s easier to dodge if you’re far out,” Frey advises. 

“Does he… only have two attacks?” Dylas asks.

“Let’s hope that’s the case!” 

Frey charges, whispering a spell to keep herself safe. Light spins around her again as a pool of blackness opens below her, and she has to swallow her fear and keep moving forward. The shadowed figure does not move this time, and the way it weathers her attacks deeply disturbs her. It does not flinch, does not move, when she strikes it and slices at it, as if it isn’t affected at all. She’s close enough that light surrounding her not only functions as defence but offence, battering the figure as it whirls around her. The pool underneath her disappears, and Ethelberd with it. Her companions take their places behind her, their backs to hers, watching all corners of the cavern. 

Leon speaks up, his voice almost lighted with a laugh. “He can’t… he can’t move while casting? He has the ability to teleport to anywhere at will in an instant, but he has to stay still while using magic? That’s so lame.” 

“So as long as the portals are open, he has to stay there and take a beating.” Dylas almost smiles, rolling his shoulders.

“And he can cast only one spell at a time, huh.” 

“Yes well, not everyone has friends like you two,” Frey chimes in, gaining confidence now that they’ve accurately evaluated their opponent, and know how to combat it properly. There was always a bit of a defensive phase of their many fights, spent dodging and testing attacks. She was glad this one seemed almost too easy. How much damage could a shade really conjure, after all? He was only a shadow of his former self, not even complete.

Almost insultingly, the creature appears right in front of them, as if to taunt her, and she slashes at it again, drawing her shield arm back to give him a good strike with it, but finds her target gone again.

The dance between them continues, dodging magic and throwing magic and charging again, and Frey finds herself winded after so long. When she finally gets the chance to evaluate her companions, they look at her in concern. Their clothing is mostly in place, and they seem not nearly as fatigued. 

“You don’t think…” Dylas starts. His hand hovers over the middle of her back, channeling healing magic into her to help her stamina and sore joints. 

“This is perfect, actually,” she pants. “It makes sense his soul would hate me so much that he basically ignores you two.”

Only Frey would be able to see the positives of someone hating her. 

“How anyone could hate you is a mystery to me,” Leon says, his voice genuine with apology. 

“We’ll do the inverted triangle, but you two will focus on ranged attacks.”

Both men look at her with concern. 

“No way. You’ll be too close.”

“I have to be, or else he casts the room-wide spell, then none of us will get any attacks in.”

She brings up a good point, but they’re loath to admit it. Dylas looks especially pained, since lightning magic is the hardest to control - it can be fired in a general direction, but aiming precisely is very difficult. 

_I’m scared of hurting you._

When Ethelberd appears again, Frey rushes towards him, not waiting for their consent. 

_I trust you._

Her heart pounds in her ears, louder with every step. As expected, the closer she is to him, the more his almost-absent gaze fixates on her, eyes blazing with a flurry of emotions. She imagines she looks at him almost similarly; each of her blows are backed by hatred, anger, and pity. He never flinches when she hits him, and she _prays_ it’s actually hurting him. Pain shoots through her soles and ankles, and she glances down at the void at her feet, hissing out a light spell nearly too late. She raises her shield, enchanted with elemental resistances, and crouches defensively behind it.

“Now!” she commands, and her party members, who have already circled around him to where Ethelberd’s back is turned, start unleashing spells of fire, lightning, wind, and water. The sound of storms rushes past her, wind whipping her hair around and stinging her face. Lightning, cracking and popping, making the hair on her arms stand on end. Water and fire in quick succession, and the superheated steam that follows, burning _something_. Her sword and shield’s hilt and handles heat in her hands, and she hopes the burning smell isn’t coming from anywhere on her.

_I have nothing to fear._

Feeling her protective light magic start to sputter out, Frey makes her retreat, dragging her feet through the dark pond. The bottoms of her feet feel sticky, and is making it hard to lift her legs while walking backwards. Keeping her balance is proving to be particularly hard in this position, defending from collateral damage and retreating at the same time. There are too many sounds around her from all the magic. A tendril of darkness hangs onto her foot especially roughly and _pulls_ , and her foot goes out from under her. 

◇◇◇◇

Dylas is anxious about this plan. Lightning magic is rare and sought-after, but he never wanted it. He never asked to become who he had been. He never even asked to be brought back. He had never wanted for anything in his life. But in the here and now, with electricity flying from his fingers in an unpredictable pattern, he did want something, and it was extraordinarily clear despite the chaotic situation they were in. He wanted the girl on the other side of this to be standing there, the same as always, with that goofy smile still on her face. That’s all he wanted.

Leon is a bit more in his element now, putting his all into slinging spells. Where Frey was technique and Dylas was brute strength, Leon was raw magical power, spells rolling off his tongue as easy as a river flows through a riverbed. One after another, in different successions, different combinations, almost _fun._ Fire is his favorite, hot and angry. Water is unassuming, but when shaped correctly, is as deadly as any metal weapon. Dusty earth is his least favorite, but the effectiveness of its bludgeoning impact can’t be denied. Wind is usually used as an augmenting factor, speeding attacks and slowing impacts - but throwing high-speed magic was no longer an option, not with Frey on the other side of Ethelberd. He would not lose her too, not here, not now.

So when the shade dissipated once more, and smoke and dust was all that was in front of them, and she was decidedly _not_ standing there, they run. They run past her sword, abandoned on the floor, where she was supposed to be still standing. 

“Frey!”

“Frey?”

Leon summons a softer wind once more to clear the arena, and Dylas already has the incantation for healing on his tongue. 

“Geez, you guys sure are being noisy.”

They find her sitting far off in the dirt, her shield charred and herself scratched and dirty. Her knees are bleeding, and her hair isn’t tied up anymore. There’s dirt all over her clothing and face and hands. But she’s alive, though struggling to stand. 

“ _Gods_ ,” Leon exhales, striding over to help her. “I thought I had incinerated you.” 

“No, but you got my ribbons pretty good. I will be expecting new ones.”

“We are _not_ trying that again,” Dylas says sternly, and she laughs. The sound of her laugh, echoing throughout the cavern both unnerves and comforts them. The source of their fear for her is clear as day now, if it wasn’t already before.

But that’s the problem for their future selves, because Ethelberd materializes again, and this time he nearly levitates above the ground. 

“We haven’t seen that before,” Frey states, her voice laced with nervousness, and she hurriedly whispers healing into her legs and feet, just in time. 

The shade seemed to be rippling, morphing, and she felt a strange feeling of deja-vu, but could not place where from. 

Then she remembered.

Her description of this dungeon as a nightmare was apt, but having to relive through the chimera was nothing compared to this. Facing Ethelberd again was one thing, but this… this was too much. 

Wings sprouting from its back. His neck grew in length while his body grew in size. And suddenly Ethelberd was again, the shape of someone who was near and dear to her heart. The very same someone they were in here to save. Enough was enough.

“I will not let you use her _again_!” 

Frey sprints for her sword, throwing fire magic at him as she runs. His transformation seemed to have rendered him unable to use the teleportation magic he had been employing, so he moves in a way apt for his new size. His tail and wingspan nearly encompasses the whole cave, and it is almost too cramped for him to turn abruptly. Dylas and Leon take the opportunity to throw more spells at him, this time combining wind and lightning again to create instant impact spells, now that they no longer have to worry about friendly fire. 

Ethelberd’s borrowed body can’t hold up as well as their previous encounter with it, and the impact spots seem to leak with dark magic. Wind begins to gather around his body, and Leon switches to earth magic, the natural counterpart to wind magic. He draws spikes of rocks from the ground, flinging them into their foe’s flesh, who remained unflinching even in his new form. 

_For Ventuswill._

However, when Frey reaches her sword, a howl resonates throughout the cave, and suddenly she and everything her friends had been throwing at Ethelberd are swept up in a tornado of wind magic. Horrified, Leon and Dylas stay their hands, but not before their conjured rock and lightning are pulled into the violent tunnel of wind before them. 

Frey of course, is at its center.

Wind magic at high speeds and concentrations can _slice,_ and is easy magic for someone borrowing the body of an ancient wind dragon. She can feel her hair whipping around her head, and the sand caught in the storm stings her face and eyes. Rocks caught up in this funnel cloud bang against her head, her arms and legs, and lightning zips past her and burns cuts into her clothing and skin. She can’t see anything, doesn’t know which direction to go, and can’t hear anything but the roar of the gale around her. But worst of all, there’s a voice in her head that doesn’t belong to her. 

_How does it feel?_

_To be betrayed by the very one you came here to save?_

_To die by her hands?_

_To die by the hands of your foolish friends?_

_Torturing your kind has been my life’s work._

_You will fall, like all the others before you._

  
  


“Shut _up!”_

_My memories might be gone._

_I might even deserve your hate._

_Maybe I was a terrible person in my past._

_But I know for sure,_

_My friends would never willingly hurt me._

_Venti would never willingly hurt me._

Frey feels something deep inside her, and prays to it, holding her hands out and concentrating.

_I am an Earthmate. The earth is my friend._

_The earth would never willingly hurt me._

“So enough using them, and fight your own fight!”

When she shouts, the twister suddenly dissipates with another whistling howl, throwing all the rocks and sand and magic out from itself before whirling into nothingness. Leon has thrown up a wall of rock to serve as a shield for himself and Dylas, while Ethelberd, pelted with flying debris, shudders and shakes and collapses to the ground, magic leaking from his body. When he tries to conjure violent winds once more, nothing happens.

Frey rejoins her companions with a new light in her eyes and strength in her step, and they stand with her once more, readying the last of the strength and magic.

“It’s time to end this.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

  
  
  


_I never asked for this. This isn’t what I want._

  
  


_Is that how you really feel?_

  
  


_…_

_I have the power to save you now._

  
  


_The power of the four Guardians, who gave their old lives to save you_

_The power of all the past Earthmates, whose lives were dedicated to saving you_

_The hopes of everyone living in Selphia, who want to see you again_

_Your hopes, even mine._

_I’ll save you, Venti._

  
  
  


And then there was silence.

“Venti?”

Nothing.

“Venti!”

Emptiness.

If Frey thought she felt hopeless when Ventuswill disappeared before her eyes in the castle, she thought wrong. Hopelessness was the raw and empty pain she felt _now_ , after making it to the final room of this cursed dungeon, finding the strength to overcome the nightmare that awaited her there, and still being unable to do anything as her friend vanished before her eyes for the very last time. 

There was nothing left she could do.

One chance, one last test she took and _thought she passed_ \- but fate would still deny her this.

Maybe she had asked for too much. 

Maybe saving each of the four guardians, the village of Selphia, and the rune stones from the empire had been all the universe was willing to give her. She had her life, despite it being nearly forfeit so many times along her journey. Ventuswill had spent her allotted time on earth with them - no small number at that, since dragons live for so very long - and asking for more was simply asking for too much. She was being so selfish and childish; maybe that’s why she and Ventuswill got along so well. Neither of them were willing to make the sacrifices they needed to.

But how could she? When somewhere along the way, somewhere throughout her journey, she had known in her heart all along that her reason for coming to Selphia in the first place was to save its guardian - save Venti. If she hadn’t fallen off of that airship and delivered the stones properly, would Venti still be home with her now? If she had been stronger, faster, smarter-

Her thoughts are interrupted when Leon taps her shoulder, both he and Dylas each taking one of her hands to help her up. Frey remembers not when she slumped to the ground. Her memories of this unending dungeon are blurring together, getting lost in the memories she had been finding in each new room. Venti’s goodbyes all resound in her mind, and she has trouble distinguishing the one she just heard from the others. Despite winning the long battle against a ghost of Ethelberd, everything inside of her is reeling with the feeling of defeat and confusion. She’s surprised she isn’t crying; it must be the exhaustion. 

“C’mon, let’s get home,” Dylas says quietly. 

It’s a small reminder that there is a semblance of happiness still awaiting her back in Selphia.

The three of them wordlessly gather what things of theirs are salvageable, leaving behind an innumerable number of shattered bottles of potions and broken weapons. The weight of loss and exhaustion feels heavy on their bodies already, and the quietness of the path out of Rune Prana confirms it is very, very late. 

They emerge from the heavy stone doors and breathe in the cold night air. There is snow on the ground, and the soft satisfying crunch of it under their feet is a welcome change from the rough stone and dirt floors they had been trekking through for days. Leon puts his coat on, and Dylas dons a hat. Frey does her best to button her cloak up despite her shaky, tired fingers. 

The sky is bright, clear, and streaked with stars; it would be a beautiful sight to behold on any other night but tonight. Tonight, it is the last thing on anyone’s mind as Frey and her friends make their way back to Selphia. It seems entirely too big, and Frey feels especially small and powerless tonight. She keeps her eyes on the path in front of her, and nowhere else.

There is no talking amongst them along the way, none of the casual banter that is the normal between the three of them. Just their tired sighs and sniffles caused by the cold air on their noses and ears.

When they arrive back in Selphia, the town is hushed and asleep, to their relief. There would be nothing more humiliating than returning to the townsfolk celebrating their victory, when they had anything but to show for it. Yes, Leon’s previous suggestion to keep their return date vague was one that kept all the possibilities in mind - victories, failures, even deaths. By not letting their friends wait up for them or even venture in after them if they failed to return by a certain date, the other villagers stayed safe. 

The sleepy atmosphere of the town only spurs Frey faster through the snow to the castle. The soft-looking blankets of snow on the roofs and windowsills of her neighbor’s shops and houses were starting to look comfortable to her; if she stopped for too long she may just decide to lay down and go to sleep there in the snow. Dylas and Leon, ever concerned for her health and respectfully quiet, accompany her to her room. They could see the toll this entire endeavor was taking on her, and were also worried she might not make it to her bed if left alone.

The clatter that sounds when Frey dumps her bag onto her bedroom floor seems to shake the castle, but there were no concerned butlers rushing in tonight. The town seems to be under a sleeping spell, and Leon is briefly reminded of a fairytale in one of Kiel’s many books.

_“Should the princess fall victim to the curse, so would her castle and those within her kingdom.”_

Everything depended on her, after all. 

Despite not paying much mind to Frey’s title as princess (by her insistence), Dylas and Leon have still always waited for her to dismiss them before going home of their own accord.

“You can drop your weapons and gear wherever,” Frey states flatly, gesturing vaguely around the room. “We can clean in the morning.” 

She pulls more blankets out from her wardrobe and throws them weakly to her companions, ignoring the confused looks on their faces, and launching herself face down into her own bed after kicking off her shoes. It smells so good, so welcoming, after who-knows-how-long in her camping bedding, ridden with dirt and dust. A small comfort.

Leon shrugs and starts to finds himself a spot on the floor, while Dylas can only manage a dumbfounded, “Umm--” 

“Go to sleep, Dylas,” Frey laughs tiredly, her voice muffled from her face being buried in her pillow. 

“Here?”

“No, take the blanket our lady just gave you and go back to Porco’s,” Leon smirks, already lounging on the floor, his headscarf pulled down over his eyes. 

“Yes, _here,”_ Frey sighs, finally looking up and patting her calloused hands on both sides of her mattress. “Both of you.”

“Are you insane?” Dylas hiss-whispers, his face coloring red, and Frey laughs again, almost as if she _had_ lost her mind. 

“Don’t you both want to sleep on a proper bed after camping on the cold stone floor for days? I think we deserve at least that much. Meg insists I have the comfiest bed. I figured I would share the wealth, so to speak.”

“Inviting one man into your bed is one thing, but two? The nation will never recover from the scandal, Princess!” Leon remarks, surprisingly casually.

“Is it really any different than when we’re camping in that little tent?”

“ _Yes_!” Dylas and Leon insist. 

“Don’t you have sleepovers with the other guys in town?” Frey asks airily, rolling onto her back again. “Us girls do it all the time. It’s just the same as that!” she says matter-of-factly.

“It is _not_ ,” they insist again, Dylas holding his head in his hands. 

“The space won’t be an issue if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says with a yawn, “All of us fit up here... when we have sleepovers of our own…” 

Neither of them answer, waiting for her to fall asleep to avoid pushing the matter further. 

When there’s finally a long silence, they think they’ve held out enough to win this argument. Leon relaxes again on the floor, and Dylas settles down right where he’s standing, afraid to rustle things around and wake her again, despite being well aware of how tired she must be.

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Frey mumbles softly into her blanket, almost inaudibly. 

It’s hard to tell if she’s awake or sleep-talking, but a feeling, shared between the two of them, drags them both out of their sleepy stupors and back onto their feet. Some would call it guilt. Others, concern. Or a third feeling completely, but neither of them would currently like to admit to that. 

Leon has a mind to say something, and Dylas has a retort ready on his tongue, but both feel so thoroughly seeped in exhaustion that neither of them end up saying anything at all. 

_Just go to sleep._

Frey, luckily or unluckily, situated herself in the middle, so it’s easy for Dylas to crawl up the foot of the bed on the wall side and settle himself there, while Leon slides in wordlessly onto the outer edge. She did not lie about her bed being sizable enough, as there’s more space between them than in the tent they normally shared. On top of each having their own blankets, and Frey keeping a veritable supply of pillows on her bed as a princess does, this _was_ a rather comfortable arrangement. This could explain why she seems so well-rested after only a handful of hours of sleep.

“I guess this is the royal treatment for you,” Leon muses, and like the snow outside, sleep slowly and gently falls over the three of them.

  
  


◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

  
  


The three of them wake up to Vishnal’s voice, of all things. 

“Clorica, have you waken the Princess yet- AGHH-” 

When Frey opens her eyes, Clorica is standing in front of her bed with a dreamy look on her face, and Vishnal is in her chamber doorway, yelling and looking scandalized. Dylas and Leon are on either side of her on her bed, each already sitting up, and understanding dawns on her. 

“ _PRINCESS_!”

Vishnal is striding across the room, yelling, and suddenly everyone starts talking at all once.

“Oh, when we got back last night-”

“Clorica, could ya stop staring at us like that-” 

“Vishnal, we do this all the time-”

“You do _WHAT_ all the time--?!” 

“Think your butler’s lost his mind-” 

“Volkanon! Volkanooooon! This isn’t in the handbook!” 

“WHAAAAT IS GOING ON HERE---!?” 

Volkanon’s voice bellows throughout the castle and silences all present parties. Everyone scrambles to their feet awkwardly and turns their attention to the head butler, now standing in the doorway, his silhouette intimidating. He straightens and strides within a respectable distance of Frey and her party, then bows formally. 

“It fills my heart with great joy to see you… and your companions... safe home with us once more, Lady Frey. Should you need anything at all after your long expedition, please rely on us, as we would be happy to provide it for you,” he says with a flourish, and sharp look at Vishnal and Clorica. They immediately fall into line alongside him, and bow their heads in unison. 

“But…” Vishnal starts.

“What _are_ these two fellows doing here so early, hm? We were not prepared to receive visitors at this hour,” Volkanon remarks with a professionalism only he could pull off.

“We returned so very late last night, and I had them stay here with me, rather than send them home in the snow, fatigued as we all were,” Frey pulls off with an equal air of confidence, and Dylas is impressed at the ease in which she fits into her title when she needs to. 

“They provided me with such support during our journey, I thought it was the least I could do to give them a comfortable surface to sleep on for a night after returning.” 

Volkanon narrows his eyes before stepping forward and pulling Frey into a tight hug, bawling loudly.

“LADY FREY IS SO KIIIIIND!” 

Clorica and Vishnal each join in, glad to see their princess returned to the castle as well. Frey wiggles out of his long standing bear hug with some effort, and turns to Clorica.

“Why _didn’t_ you wake us, anyway?” 

“Ohhh… You see… Everyone looked so comfy sleeping in your bed, I was debating if I should just crawl in and join you all...” Clorica admits nonchalantly.

“Oh! Maybe tonight, okay?” Frey responds easily, as if Clorica has napped with her before, and Vishnal suddenly looks very discontent; realizing he is the only one who hasn’t had a sleepover with Frey, and Leon claps his back apologetically. 

There’s a sudden rumbling, a bit of shaking, and a shrieking noise, and everyone is on high alert once more, being all too familiar with the ruckus the Empire’s machinery is capable of-

“DID YOU FIENDS _FORGET_ ABOUT ME,” a shrill voice booms from the castle’s main room, and Frey, Leon, and Dylas share an astonished look, before sprinting out the door past the group of butlers before anyone can say anything else. 

“Oh right!” Clorica calls, the three of them running after Frey and her friends.

“We were in such a hurry to wake you up because-” 

_Merry Chrismas, Venti_.

  
  


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Author’s note:

Don’t @ me about the chocolate milk porridge, champorado is the breakfast of champions

thank you for reading!


End file.
